


The Unexpected Layover

by juxtaposedmusings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Airport flirting, F/M, Fingering, Hey it's AU, Oral, Sex, Strangers to Hookup, The least angsty fic I'll probably ever write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtaposedmusings/pseuds/juxtaposedmusings
Summary: Fun holidays shenanigans of  Betty Cooper meeting Jughead Jones in an international airport during an unexpected layover.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!! This fic should be 2-3 chapters and I'll try to get this posted in a timely fashion for holidays travels~
> 
> I would not be half the writer without the help of my betas. Speaking of, full thanks and joy given to [ K](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/Bugggghead) and you should also probably go read her stuff cause it's great.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you liked. :)

 

Never in a hundred years would Betty have imagined she would have traveled the world twice over while handling a variety of consulting contracts. The plan had always been to get out of Riverdale, but not exactly to get continents away. She had become _so_ well traveled, she even put Veronica Lodge to shame; a regular lament from her socialite best friend

‘The plan’ was also supposed to feature her as a journalist, covering hard-hitting stories. As reality would have it, there just wasn’t a market demand for journalists that paid above minimum wage. And so, Betty signed onto one of the top consulting companies straight out of college. She was a great fit, her organizational skillset, advanced critical thinking, and exemplary soft skills made the work easy, even when it wasn’t all that engaging.

She was 25, financially secure, and mostly content with the majority of her life. However, Betty Cooper was already dreading the inevitable questions about her love life she was going to receive from nosey family members. Betty hadn’t ever really been able to hold down a relationship due to her busy schedule. While that fact wasn’t unbearable, if she had to hear her Aunt Penelope allude to her _perhaps_ not being interested in men and ‘it being alright to be her true self’ around the Blossom side of the family one more time, Betty was going to absolutely snap.

 

As was the nature of her career, airports had become somewhat of a second home to her, the number of frequent flyer miles she had accumulated was a point of pride for her. Traveling back to the states for the holiday season, though, was proving to be entirely more cumbersome than necessary.

The first layover she experienced was planned, but the second was a result of poor weather conditions and had earned her a day pass to the Sky Lounge in the Heathrow airport.

 

 _Things could be worse,_ she reasoned, ascending the steep escalator to the exclusive entrance to the lounge.

 

Even a frequent flyer like Betty didn’t usually visit the Sky Lounges, but they were something she’d always aspired to regularly frequent once she was more than _merely_ financially comfortable.

She checked in at the front desk, verifying her identity and reason for being there (also finding it to be the most pleasant customer experience she had ever had with the company’s attendants in recent history).

 

Betty’s brows raised as she took in the extravagant buffet and drink service to her right and spacious seating throughout the extensive open floored layout. The soft instrumental Christmas music was tasteful and unoffensive while all children that were present in the lounge seemed to be well behaved and at their caretakers’ sides.

 

 _Well, this must be how the 1% (of flyers) spends their day-to-day_ , she internally noted.

 

She spent a good amount of time slowly wading through the potential options of where to find a seat. Assumably, she planned to be seated for—hours—save for the time she planned to get up to grab food or use the restroom. Some of the chairs were even spacious enough to be called couches in their own right. Taking up a huge spot on her own, however, did not feel right.

Betty eventually chose a seat near a window with obvious access to outlets where she could recharge herself and her electronics respectively. She plopped down, setting her bags to the side and immediately pulled out the coiled up cords from her purse to plug in her phone charger.

 

Just as she started pulling out her laptop, she shook her head. This layover was not the time to get ahead on work. It was about relaxation and indulgence.

So instead, she opted to grab the paperback book buried slightly further down in her bag. She was going to get caught up on the true crime story her book club had finished ages ago.

There was something about becoming an adult that had singlehandedly made it impossible to retain previous hobbies and indulgences without an exorbitant amount of energy. Reading and writing and digging into the latest scoop was something Betty was able to manage with ease in both high school and college, but had become a nonstarter in many cases now that her job demanded her presence and attention in nearly several time zones at once.

Despite this excessive break from her former passions, she found herself emerged in the words of the author. Captivated by the tone and nuance of their prose and purposeful use of punctuation to keep the reader hanging on by the edge of their seat.

She was so utterly deep into the story that when the phone that was placed next to her on the seat vibrated, she jumped. Not enough to draw attention from the whole room, but when she looked up, she noticed a handsome man—who had certainly not been sitting there before—giving her a knowing smile. She gave her own sheepish one in return.

There was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on that was making it difficult for her to break eye contact. Some element about his face that was vaguely familiar and made her want to ask if they’d met before. But then again, Betty met so many people and ran across countless others that there was a high probability someone she had come across in the past had similar features to the man across from her.

Nevertheless, he held her gaze with the same engaging smile. Betty finally broke away from staring at him by turning to the phone at her side. She found a text message from her friend waiting for her.

 

 **Veronica Lodge** : Can’t wait to see you in T-minus four hours!

 

Betty frowned as she took in the collection of holiday emojis accompanied in her message.

 

 **Betty Cooper:** Bad news. Extra layover and I’m still in London. :(

 

 **Veronica Lodge:** Unacceptable.

 **Veronica Lodge:** Kidding.

 **Veronica Lodge:** But really, why must the world keep us apart?

 

 **Betty Cooper:** International travel can be tricky. Bright side—

I am finally reading September’s  Book Club Read

 

 **Veronica Lodge:** You really work too hard, B.

 **Betty Cooper:** Time is $$

 **Veronica Lodge:** I can think of easier ways to make a lot more…

 **Veronica Lodge:** But I digress.

 **Betty Cooper:** Uh-huh. ;) 

 **Betty Cooper:** In other news, this writing is doing things for me 

 **Veronica Lodge:** Things, huh? Books still get you hot and bothered?

 

 **Betty Cooper:** Yes and yes

 

 **Veronica Lodge:** I hear the author is really hot, too

 **Betty Cooper:** Oh??

 **Betty Cooper:** His headshot is literally a picture of his back.

 **Betty Cooper** : And fully clothed.

 **Veronica Lodge:** Yeah, he never shows his face in books.

 **Veronica Lodge:** Or reveals his name.

 **Betty Cooper:** What help is telling me he’s hot then?

 **Veronica Lodge:** You know you hardly needed that information

 **Betty Cooper:** Well if he looks half as good as his prose, I’d

be on my knees in a heartbeat

 **Veronica Lodge:** It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

 **Betty Cooper:** Too long :( 

 **Veronica Lodge:** Alright, I’ve gotta go take care of errands

 **Veronica Lodge:** Try not to touch yourself in the airport lobby

 **Veronica Lodge:** Or do. ;) Later!

 

Betty sighed as she put her phone back down, stealing another glance at the man across from her. This time he was looking at the laptop on the small table in front of him. She felt the slightest bit invasive, watching him type away, his thoughts a clear conscious stream for whatever he was working on.

Her eyes easily transfixed on the way his hands moved, subconsciously deciding he had some of the sexiest hands she had ever seen before.

But maybe that was just her sexual frustration speaking.

 

_It probably was._

 

Betty tore her eyes away, opening her book once again and returning her attention to the section she had left off. She spent some time finding the exact sentence she had been on before her phone had buzzed. Rereading a few sentences before finally delving back into the mystery unfolding in the novel’s pages.

On several occasions, she brought a hand to her mouth in shock, the twists and turns of the plot ensnaring her once more. Betty was eight chapters in when a waitress approached her. The woman lightly tapped her shoulder and Betty all but shrieked as the book in her hand went flying through the air.

She immediately voiced a dozen apologies, explaining her jumpiness and how sorry she was that she was making a scene. The attendant assured her that it was no trouble at all until Betty had finally calmed down enough to ask her what she’d like to drink. She replied with “Diet Coke,” unaware that the drink service was not limited to non-alcoholic options.

When she finally looked in front of her once more, the man’s eyes awaited hers again. A smirk replacing his previous smile as he held up her book in his hand.

He stood up—and she noted his rather nice height—and took the few necessary steps to end up right in front of her.

 

“Good taste,” he said, handing her the book back.

 

She held the book in the hands, momentarily paralyzed as he returned back to his seat. Two words and she was already convinced she wanted to hear him speak more. If not just to listen to the narrative tone his voice seemed to carry.

It wasn’t as if she could make a full assessment, so everything she had about him was just an inference, and yet she stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face.

She wanted to be witty and quick, responding with the perfectly chosen quotation from the book (he’d obviously read it if he said her reading it stood for good taste) but all she could do was force out a quiet, “Thanks.”

 

Betty forced herself back into the book, opening it to a random page now. One she had already read. She simply couldn’t bring herself to look up at him again without having something particularly smart to say.

It was a solid forty-five seconds before she looked up again, catching the sight of him taking a sip of an amber colored liquid from what appeared to be a whiskey glass. Maybe she should have asked for something stronger.

She bit her bottom lip as her eyes lingered on the sight of his lips. Betty was feeling like a terrible cliche, falling for any man who happened to have similar literature interests.

 

 _Stop_ , she reprimanded herself.

 

She found the man attractive before he made the comment about the book she was reading. She was frustrated before he even showed up, really. Him telling her she had “good taste” wasn’t the only reason she was already fantasizing about walking up to him and straddling him before kissing him senseless. (A common fantasy she held for any person she had any sort of crush on.)

 

Although the words “ _good taste_ ” continued to ring in her head. Repeated on a loop. Driving her mad with misplaced want for this stranger.

 

The waitress returned, interrupting her train of thought before handing her the glass of Diet Coke before the woman turned to other guests to inquire if she could fetch them anything.

Betty took a sip of the drink, trying to at least physically quench her thirst in a literal way.

The blonde’s brows knit together as the waitress turned back to her again. Before Betty could inquire anything, the waitress handed her a glass of champagne after setting a napkin on the table next to her.

Betty was about to say she didn’t order it, but stopped herself so that she might prevent exposing a lack of culture in some way unbeknownst to her. Maybe champagne on the hour, every hour was a typical custom in the Sky Lounge.

Taking the glass, she noted handwriting on the napkin.

 

 _Curious_ , she mused before grabbing the napkin to further inspect what it actually said.

 

**_Care for a drink at one of the bars?_ **

 

Betty looked up again, eyes wide and searching for who wrote the note. Internally hoping it was the man across her and not some random creep staring at her from afar.

Luck, it seemed, was on her side for once as his eyes awaited hers expectantly. She pointed to him with the hand holding the napkin and mouthed, “You?”

 

He lifted his head in a sort of nod she would have hated on anybody else.

She swallowed, looking at the glass in her other hand before taking a considerable sip and setting it back down on the table. She could hear her heart racing in her chest, her hands already starting to mildly shake in anticipation.

 

“Okay,” she said out loud, bringing out the first grin she had seen from him.

 


	2. Hallmark Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of being teen-friendly. If smut isn't your thing, you can probably happily end the story after this chapter. If you like it...well, you'll be in for a treat next update!

 

 

It was both situationally expected and yet debatably out of character for Betty Cooper to say yes to the stranger without even getting his name before agreeing to leave the lavish environment of the Sky Lounge, pack up her belongings, and follow him off to an upscale airport bar.

If she didn’t have literal hours to spare and a building desire to—at the very least—get to know the handsome man, she would have maybe mouthed a sorry and held up her book as an excuse and that would have been that.

Her attire was far from glamorous, and she was hyper-aware of how much she wished she would have worn something better than skinny jeans and an oversized sweater with easy to remove ankle boots. Something sexier.

But it wasn’t like she was expecting to run into an attractive man and silently flirt with him until he finally asked her out in some capacity. She had planned to be on a plane with strangers she wouldn’t so much as make eye contact with.

Even her hair was less than alluring. It was all thrown up into a messy bun on top of her head with about as much effort as a person running on a few hours of sleep would put into their hairstyle.

And yet, he had still found her look acceptable, and she did her best to remind herself of that as she took a seat on the barstool next to him.

 

“What’s your poison?”

 

“Oh, I don’t really drink enough to be able to answer that,” she started, which prompted his brows to elevate some centimeters from their resting position, “but I guess I could go for a vodka cranberry.”

 

He placed the order for their respective drinks before turning back to her.

 

“You agreed to drinks with me even though you don’t drink?”

 

The question made her blush, feeling a rush of misplaced embarrassment. She was swiftly making a fool out of herself before she even had the proper chance to introduce herself.

 

“I don’t _not_ drink. I just don’t have a go-to choice. I’m not a seasoned drinker. Just casual. Occasional.”

 

His smirk grew with her neverending rambling.

 

“But anyways, I’m Betty. Betty Cooper,” she said, extending a hand to try to save herself from saying anything else damning before she had even had her first real drink of the day.

 

He offered up his own hand, giving her a firm shake before responding, “Jughead Jones. Nice to meet you, Betty Cooper.”

 

When he didn’t withdraw his hand from hers, she noticed she had missed several breaths of her own, causing her to involuntarily cough as she drew her hand back to cover her mouth until her lungs calmed down.

 

_Smooth, Cooper._

 

Her hands momentarily gripped the barstool she sat on. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she tried to remind herself that she was a decade past nervous butterflies when in close proximity to someone she found attractive.

 

“So,” she started, filling the silence with words before she even knew where she was going to take the conversation, “do you often frequent Sky Longues?”

 

Jughead casually took their drinks from the bartender, placing hers in front of her before responding with a shrug, “Eh, infrequently.”

 

Betty bit her bottom lip habitually as her eyes did little to hide her confusion at his answer. She took a small sip of her too strong drink before setting it back down.

 

“Just a casual lobby dweller, then? Or do you not really frequent airports in general?”

 

Jughead let out a short laugh that quickly piqued Betty’s need to have conversational partners engaged during discussion.

 

“Definitely the opposite of a ‘lobby dweller’.  Also a heavy traveler, but it wears me out since I can’t sleep on planes. Typically, I just rent a daytime room at one of the airport hotels and get some much-needed rest.”

 

“What’s different about this time?” she asked at once.

 

“Besides meeting you?”

 

“No, I mean, why didn’t you opt for the room instead of visiting the bougie respite?”

 

His laugh was sincere in the seconds before he took a sip of his own drink.

 

“I did both this time.”

 

“Well aren’t you fancy,” she replied, slightly shimmying her shoulders before mirroring his previous action and taking another drink.

 

“Can’t get much people watching done in the room. Where would I be without the inspiration of people who fling books across the room when approached?”

 

Betty narrowed her eyes at him, but a smile gave away any real anger at her next words.

 

“I’d hardly say that the book made it across the room. Several inches, maybe.”

 

She was beginning to tolerate the moments between responses. Ones he seemed to let linger far longer than she usually felt comfortable existing in.

 

“Why were you looking for inspiration?” Betty had a few follow up questions in mind. Based on his own activity in the lounge, she assumed that perhaps he was a hobbyist writer, but she didn’t want to assume on the basis that basically any career could involve typing away at a laptop these days.

 

“My writing. It’s been a bit...more of the same lately. Trying to change it up.”

 

Betty nodded, counting to three before springing her next question.

 

“Do you write for fun?”

 

He shrugged, taking another drink. He seemed to calculate his answers before saying them out loud.

 

“Professionally, but—I try to make it fun personally. Otherwise, what’s the point, right?”

 

“That makes sense. What genre do you cover?”

 

“Mystery. Suspense. You could say true crime, but truthfully it’s getting a little watered down with all the book to Netflix series these days.”

 

“So you’re a true crime writer that liked the book I was reading...is that author someone you look up to?”

 

His eyes widened as he brought his index finger up to his mouth and thumb cradled his chin. She could see him trying to hold back whatever real emotion he was feeling.

 

“Real quick, Betty. Do you remember the author’s name?”

 

Betty felt a small wave of panic starting in her stomach and building until it was stuck in her throat. Was this a test? Did she make a premature mistake?

 

“To be honest, I just started reading it today about an hour ago,” she started, trying to buy herself time by saying something. “I don’t think it was a full name. Just ‘J’ and then a last name...a ‘J’ last name?”

 

She looked at him for any non-verbal queues and was met with a small nod.

Over ten excruciatingly long seconds passed before realization dawned on Betty. At first, she internally doubted herself. It couldn’t be Jones because the man in front of her had just introduced himself as Jughead Jones. J. Jones. That would be too obvious.

 

Or it was obvious because it was right.

The man in front of her  _was_ J. Jones.

He was the author she had spent the past few hours admiring from an artistic perspective while she simultaneously eye-fucked him from across the Sky Longue.

 

“Oh,” she all but whispered, “You _are_ him.”

 

“Hopefully that isn’t a deterrent,” he quipped.

 

Betty was at a crossroads of emotions. An immediate sense of wonder and respect overcame her. His work was prolific and she was sitting face-to-face with one of the best authors of the genre. From the first paragraph, she had been hooked, and his mastery of the written word had her weak at the knees before she even had any real idea of what he looked like.

But she did know what he looked like now.

And she had found him incredibly appealing before she had even an inkling of what he was like as a person (though she still didn’t have a full grasp on his personality just yet) or what he did in his free time.

 

“Or maybe it is?” A small tinge of self-doubt appeared in his tone, immediately breaking Betty out of her vastly complicated internal monologue.

 

“No!” She rested a hand on his forearm. “I mean, no. This is just a lot to process. The timing of it all.”

 

He nodded, briefly looking down at her hand and then back at her. “Not incredibly often I meet a pretty girl that likes my work and yet doesn’t even know who I am.”

 

“I just started reading, to be fair,” she retorted, a hint of playfulness in her reply.

 

“How are you finding it so far?”

 

Betty’s hand remained on his arm, and yet she found the distance between the two of them seemed noticeably smaller than it had been at first - despite their chairs being in the same position.

 

“You have a real way with words.”

 

“Well now, don’t be so verbose,” he teased, and she caught his eyes momentarily leaving her own.

 

“Are you looking for praise from me?”

 

This time she was certain his eyes were now fixed on her lips, his head tilted as he started to lean in further. “And if I am?”

 

Betty found her eyelids growing heavy as she felt the draw of matching his actions. The idea of the repercussions of her actions lightyears away from her relevant thoughts.

It was a Christmas miracle she managed to pull away from him just before they closed the space between them.

 

“Hold that thought!”

 

Betty hurried to her feet, exiting the bar area and speed walking several storefronts past her prior location before pulling out her phone and dialing Veronica’s number.

Her hands shook as she held the phone, listening to the waiting rings. “Pick up,” she pleaded to a non-present Veronica.

 

“Are you permanently stuck in the airport?” Veronica greeted.

 

“No, but something _happened_.”

 

“Were you kicked out for actually touching yourself? That was a joke, B”

 

Betty rolled her eyes, free hand resting on her hip.

 

“No, but remember the hot author you were talking about?”

 

“Yeah, the author whose book cover you wouldn’t mind slipping under.” Betty could practically hear Veronica’s brows waggling with her words.

 

“Well, there was this guy in the Sky Longue who asked me to get a drink.”

 

“Oh? I’m liking the start of this story. Did you two bond over what a great writer J. Jones is?”

 

“One better.”

 

“What’s better, B? Did he have a personally signed copy he offered to give you?”

 

“Better.”

 

“Okay,” Veronica sighed, “I give up.”

 

“The guy _is_ J. Jones. J stands for Jughead, apparently.”

 

There were several seconds of silence in which Betty thought she had accidentally hung up the phone.

 

“V? Hello? You still there.”

 

“I’m here. My question now obviously is why are _you_? Aren’t you supposed to be on your knees at this very second? He asked you to get a drink, obviously he’s interested.”

 

“Yeah, he actually almost just kissed me, I think.”

 

“ _Almost?! Betty Cooper!_ ”

 

“But then I needed to call you. This is a little out of my usual range of possibilities.”

 

Veronica took a lengthy breath before exhaling dramatically.

 

“Alright, let me spell this one out for you: you are currently the protagonist of a Hallmark movie in which you run across the man of your dreams who is also into you at an airport during the holidays. You have a critical choice to make—are you going to A) Let this be a basic PG movie where no one gets laid or B) Spice it up to NC-17 and live your best life?”

 

“Option B _does_ sound nice.”

 

“So what are you going to do? Pull him into a restroom? A prayer room? That’d be scandalous.”

 

“He actually has a day room at the airport hotel…”

 

“Alright, catch you later then. I expect graphic details. Get going.”

 

Betty didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye before her friend hung up on her. She took a breath to steady her still present nerves before shoving the phone in her back pocket and marching back to the bar.

 

He was still seated in the same seat as she strode up to him. He adjusted his position to face her, his expression unreadable.

 

“Is everything o—”

 

He managed to get out before she stood straight in front of him, taking the sides of his face in her hands and covering his lips with hers. Her kiss was firm in an attempt to hide any residual anxiety still coursing through her veins.

 

His shock was only momentary as his own hands found their place on either side of her waist, pulling her firmly between his legs and against his chest as he returned the kiss. His lips alternating between her upper and lower lips until Betty finally pulled away, her hands falling to his shoulders. She held onto them to steady herself as her eyelids gently fluttered open.

 

“Yeah, everything is fine.”

 

He gave her a lopsided smile before pulling her back in, making haste in meeting her tongue with his own. The distinct taste of whiskey added to the heady liplock. It was the sort of kiss that you felt from the top of your head all the way down to your toes, and Betty’s were practically curling in her boots. It was significantly harder to pull away on the second round, but she had things she couldn’t say with his tongue in her mouth.

 

Betty was vaguely aware of the possible scene she was making in the airport bar, but also had a famous, attractive author looking at her like she was the only person that existed and it was giving her the surge of confidence she needed to land her next lines.

 

“You know, I’m feeling a little faint. Do you think I could maybe rest in your room?”

 

His fingers drummed against her waist, eyes blatantly running up and down her body and face.

 

“I could nap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve. Find me on [ tumblr. ](http://juxtaposedmusings.tumblr.com/)


End file.
